


Nothing Good Happens Over Breakfast

by DashieP



Series: Nothing Good Happens Over Breakfast [1]
Category: The Masked Singer (US TV)
Genre: All three parts are in!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashieP/pseuds/DashieP
Summary: The story of how one spaceman and one turtle became roommates, then friends, and then partners.
Relationships: Astronaut (The Masked Singer US)/Turtle (The Masked Singer US), Fox (The Masked Singer US)/Rabbit (The Masked Singer US)
Series: Nothing Good Happens Over Breakfast [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803763
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. The First Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,  
> I finally got around to uploading the first two parts, and then rearranging the entire story so it made sense. I hope you enjoy the journey to the conclusion you've read, I had alot of fun writing it.

Astronaut blinks into consciousness at the sound of something crashing to the floor of the kitchen. His hands shake with the remnants of his dreams. He’s never been able to actually remember what happens, but the nausea in his stomach and the throbbing of his head is definitely a clue towards something. He slowly stands up, taking a moment to reacclimate with this planet’s gravity. He isn’t used to sleeping horizontally yet, but he’s sure he will adjust accordingly.

Once he feels ready enough, he slips his spacesuit back on. He knows it’s a weird thing to wear in a casual setting, but he can’t bring himself to accept the Bear’s offer to shop for real clothes yet. _It’s too risky_ , he cautions himself. He turns towards the mirror and studies his reflection. Harsh gold reflects into his eyes, but he won’t let himself look away yet. Flinching is something that is quickly discouraged in the Academy back on his home planet.

For a moment, the thought of his home brings a weird feeling with it. Astronaut can’t quite put his finger on it. It felt like a rock sinking down through his core, pulling him into the crust of this planet and suffocating him. He forces back the shiver that threatens to run down his spine. **Cadets don’t show weakness in the face of the unknown.**

He looks towards his helmet, hanging off the edge of the bedpost. He knows what his instructors would expect of him: **showing his face to unknowns is exposure, and exposure is a weakness**. He slips it on over his face and waits for the initial beeping to quiet down. He has always hated this part. Loud noises so close to his sensitive ears makes him antsy, but still he doesn’t react. Eventually, the visor clears up again and he makes his way towards the kitchen area.

Astronaut is stopped short by the sight of his host spinning around in circles. The reptile is muttering to himself angrily and reaching for something behind him. Astronaut cocks his head to the side and stares, wondering if this was another weird custom of this planet. He couldn’t imagine what its function was.

The Turtle notices him after a while and immediately offers him a sheepish smile. “Hey man, didn’t see you there. Sorry, I managed to get a flour bag stuck to my shell. Could you… You know.” He spins himself around gracefully and Astronaut sees the small white bag sticking out of one of the metal spikes on his back. He’s grateful for the helmet blocking the smile that’s come to his face. Smiling is an emotion, after all, and **emotion is a weakness**. Instead, he dutifully walks over and plucks the offending item off of the shell and hands it to the Turtle. “You’re a lifesaver pal; a true hero of breakfast.” The punk rocker quips, patting Astronaut’s head before turning back towards the mess he had been making.

Underneath the helmet, Astronaut frowns. In the five day cycles since he’s crashed here, this has become the norm, but until now he had never had a word to associate with it. Breakfast. Break…fast? Astronaut mouths the word to himself silently. He had heard the Bear refer to the cooking ceremony as ‘brunch’ before. Perhaps they were different events, depending on the day? As it did so often, the urge to turn on his vocal speakers and question the Turtle surged inside him. He has to physically stop himself from reaching up and flicking the switch. **Curiosity is the job of a superior, and you are not one**. Taking a deep breath, he settles himself into one of the seats at the table and watches the other carefully. He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The Academy had taught him that capture at the hands of the unknown would only lead to pain, but this strange creature in front of him has yet to do anything that could be considered painful. If anything, the Turtle has gone out of his way to accommodate him. Astronaut is not a fool, though. He knew that **the Academy was right, was always right** , and that sooner or later something was bound to change. Maybe the Turtle is attempting to lull him into a false sense of security or something, he isn’t sure. It doesn’t matter though. The Academy would eventually locate his broken ship and come for him if they deem him valuable enough.

The Turtle sits down in front of him with a plate of food, and Astronaut can’t help the breath that hitches in his throat. This planet has sufficient oxygen to breathe so Astronaut had loosened to air valve enough to preserve his supplies. The only downside to this is that it allows the planetary scents into his helmet. The smell wafting off the plate is enough to make Astronaut’s stomach curl with hunger. The nutritional bars given to him by the Academy are enough to ensure survival and nothing more, but that plate screams decadence. Involuntarily Astronaut leans forward towards it, which does not go unnoticed by the Turtle.

“Are you hungry? You must be man; I haven’t seen you actually eat anything this whole time. Uh… Do you eat food?” Astronaut nods to him. “Would you like some? I can whip up another batch quick as sin! Well, provided I don’t get stuck on something again,” the Turtle chuckles and Astronaut is once more confused by this planet’s customs. His host is describing failure and laughing at it, as if it was allowed. Back at the Academy, failure was completely unacceptable. **Failure breeds weakness, and weakness is the death of order**. So how can he laugh like that, so carefree?

The Turtle must take his silence for an affirmative because he instantly bounds back towards the cooking area excitedly. Astronaut watches him while he works. The shell on his back is covered in decorative spikes, but Astronaut knows they must hold some practical value. Maybe they were a defense mechanism? Protection against other unknowns? Perhaps this is how he would begin tormenting Astronaut. The thought sends a cold sweat through his body, and he fights back any external reaction.

Turtle finally returns with another plate and a cheerful grin. Astronaut wonders why he is allowed to showcase such emotion: **emotion is a weakness** after all. He thrusts the plate towards Astronaut enthusiastically and he instinctively raises his arm to meet him. The plate feels warm through his gloves, and now that the food is right in front of his face, he can see the steam rising off it. The strange yellow substance appears fluffy, and when he pokes it with the utensil provided it wiggles slightly. Astronaut furrows his brows and repeats the action. He hears Turtle chuckle softly, and an odd tingling in his gut reappears. He has been feeling it since he arrived, and it comes and goes with different events. Astronaut is suspicious that it has something to do with the male in front of him, smiling widely at him.

“You might need to lose the mask in order to eat that, Nugget.” The Turtle had taken to calling him that ever since the Alien had brought him to his house.

_Astronaut stood at the door silently, waiting. The Alien had entered the house a moment before to speak with someone. He could hear voices coming from within the walls but was unable to decipher what they were saying. He calculated that he had been waiting there for approximately 615 seconds before the door reopened, and Alien stepped back through. She bent down slightly to make eye contact with him, offering him a sad smile. “I have a friend with an extra room. He says that you can stay here until you figure out what to do next. Is that alright with you?”_

_He was confused by the question, but nodded his consent nonetheless. This woman wore the markings of a high ranking superior, and **Superiors are to be obeyed**. The Alien had straightened back up and turned back to the doorway, calling for someone._

_Astronaut was not sure what he expected this friend to look like, but a tall creature covered in spikes was definitely not it. He felt his pulse quicken up and couldn’t catch his breath. Years of Academy training flashed before him._

_Buzzing-_

_Questions he couldn’t answer-_

_Dismantling-_

_Screeching-_

_He felt his body tense up and before he could process what was happening, he was sprinting as fast as he possibly could. He knew that this was **emotion, emotion was vile and weak** but Astronaut couldn’t stop himself. Sooner rather than later he found himself cornered by a set of walls. He frantically looked around for an escape but the two caught up before he could try anything. _

(It had taken them a while to explain that the spikes were simply part of his biology and couldn’t be helped. The Turtle had looked him up and down once before proclaiming that he looked ‘like a little gold nugget!’ and apparently that nickname had stuck.)

The idea of taking his helmet off in front of this Unknown is not something he can process for a moment.

**Exposure is a weakness-**

he isn’t sure of this anymore, as all the ~~creatures~~ _people_ he has encountered so far are not covered and they seem to be alright.

**Unknowns are dangerous-**

but this one has been kind to him, allowing him an entire room to himself and

free reign of the house, introducing him to his friends and trying to keep him company but still always respecting his distance.

**The Academy was always right-**

and yet these unknowns haven’t done anything that the Academy had promised they would, so maybe, just once, there was an exception. 

  


The food sits there. He stares. And deliberates. And finally, slowly, he reaches up and releases the hatch.

  


With unsure movements he slowly lifts it off of his face and sets it down on the seat besides him. He sees the Turtle looking at him with a strange pink flush to his beak. Turning his attention back towards the food in front of him, he takes the utensil in his hand and scoops some of the yellow fluff into his mouth.

It’s like an explosion on his taste buds. He’s sure his face reflects it too, as the Turtle laughs again, this time a deep hearty sound. “Never seen someone who loves eggs this much before. I’ll make sure I keep a good stock of them.”

Astronaut nods.

  



	2. The First Words

Astronaut stares up at the ceiling of his room, distraught. He feels a deep sense of shame in his core, distinctly aware of how wrong everything he had been doing was. It has only been two weeks since the Breakfast Incident, and he is starting to grow fond of these Unknowns. They have taken it upon themselves to educate him on what life here was like, and against his best efforts he has begun to look forward to their daily outings. Sometimes they all spend time together, a giant group taking over the local movie theatre and showing Astronaut some ‘classic’ film that he ends up liking. Some of the strange feeling in his stomach to return; those he records via his helmet to analyze later. At least, that’s the reasoning he gives himself as he records sections of Bear’s favorite movie _Enchanted_.

Sometimes, it is just him and the Turtle, the other Unknowns **~~dangerous threats~~** busy with work and what not. On days when its just them, Astronaut finds it impossible to keep his helmet on. He’s not sure why, but he has started to hate having to dawn the large object before going out. Where it once upon a time had given him a sense of exhilaration, it now feels like a restriction, a reminder of the many rules he is currently breaking. He finally stops wearing the helmet when he and the Turtle are alone, telling himself that he had already exposed himself to the Unknown and had not died, so the risk was minimal. It is completely for comfort purposes and has absolutely _nothing_ to do with how his chest aches when he’s able to see the Turtle without any partition.

_“So, I was thinking today we could try baking,” The Turtle told him once he had finally emerged from his room. Astronaut’s stomach fluttered as he stared at the reptile’s soft smile. “I bet you’re a secret sweets addict at heart.” The Turtle’s words confused him, but he nodded anyway, and that elicited a laugh from his companion. The sound came through his speakers muffled, and not for the first time Astronaut thinks back to how amazing that sound was without the buffer. He hesitated on the bottom of the stairs. His rational fought his heart, reminding him how much trouble he already was in for removing his helmet to eat; his heart replied asking what’s a little bit more trouble? He couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. He had sealed his fate with the initial exposure, so he might as well, right?_

_He took a deep breath and released the hatch, popping the helmet off his head and placing it on the table nearby. He walked into the kitchen, forcing himself to maintain the neutral expression he had been taught to._

Astronaut can still see the Turtle’s reaction in his mind’s eye, the way his face had lit up excitedly at the sight and how he had stumbled over his words. He knows that the Turtle was dangerous for him, encouraging him to sin more and more without saying a thing but he can’t help it. Resisting the draw is like trying to fight against gravity, and instead Astronaut gives in.

The more time he spends with the Unknowns, the bolder the small voice inside his head grows. It nags at him constantly, painting pictures in his mind that definitely shouldn’t be there. It whispers to him late at night, questioning what it’d be like to let the Turtle hear him laugh at a joke, to even crack one back at him. He tries his best to ignore the temptation by going over the codes and mandates that the Academy has instilled in him until the voice quiets down.

That doesn’t mean he can get its ideas out of his head. He keeps picturing the Turtle telling him another corny pun and him firing one back. He wants to give something to this stranger who has been nothing but hospitable to him, even if it’s as small and unimportant as that. He’s not sure why but the thought of making the Turtle laugh gives him a light feeling, as if his stomach is bouncing around inside of him. He wonders just when the Turtle had gained so much control over his emotions.

The obedient cadet inside of him screams at the thoughts flowing through his head. The things he is contemplating would earn him weeks of reeducation training and that scares him more than anything else. On some level he wonders if all this worrying is for nothing, but quickly disposes of the thought. Who is he to question the Academy? **The Academy was always right** , and **curiosity was the role of a super** -

No. For the first time in his life, he actively pushes back against the thought. He is alone here, in this Unknown’s house. The Academy isn’t here to see what he is seeing. If they could see him, they would know that the Turtle wasn’t **dangerous** , wasn’t a **threat** to anyone. There was no logic to the Turtle wanting to hurt him. **But what if its a decoy, what if they think him incapable of speech and that’s why they were sparing him?** What if they hear his voice and begin to interrogate him, forcing him to give up precious Academy secrets? **The knowledge imparted by the Academy can never be repeated. Never.**

His head is throbbing hard enough that he feels like throwing up. He groans and rolls over to see what time it is. _Is midnight too late to get some water?_ He thinks it might help mitigate this headache enough that he can actually get some sleep before morning. With a sigh, he swings his legs off the edge of the bed and stands up. He debates sliding on his space suit but decides against it, figuring the Turtle to be fast asleep by this point.

He silently pads into the kitchen and retrieves a glass from the cupboard. Filling it in the sink, he gulps it down and looks around the room. Astronaut spots a small potted plant on the table and makes his way over to it quietly. It’s a small green bush filled with bright red flowers. He stares at it in raptured wonder, amazed. He still cannot believe just how beautiful this planet is, with the many colors that fill everyday life. Back at the Academy he was taught colors, but the were never so readily available as they seem to be here.

_The cadet marched forward, each step perfectly in sync with the one before it. He carried in his hands a box filled with repair equipment that would be used to practice basic maintenance on his ship. He tried to keep his mind clear and focused on stepping; right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot._

_Out of the corner of his eye he spotted something flash. He almost faltered but managed to catch himself before anyone else could notice. **Curiosity was the role** **of a Superior** , and he was a lowly cadet. He forced himself to ignore the part of him that longed to go investigate and continued onward. _

_When he rounded the next corner, he saw it again. This time he slowed down ever so slightly, turning his head enough to make out a vibrant green that was catching the light perfectly. Before he could stop himself, he was ducking down the corridor and towards the green object. When he got there, he bent over to place his box on the ground and discovered that the source of the color was a small sheet of laminated paper, covered in words from an alien language. He wasn’t interested in the words, however, as much as the color. The cadet slowly rotated it back and forth and watched as the light danced across it. He couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face at the beautiful sight. The Academy prided itself on the monochromatic colors, so finding anything outside of the normal dull gold was rare._

_“What are you doing?” He heard someone shout behind him and his back stiffed involuntarily. Knowing better than to flee, he turned around and stood at attention. Before him stood an Investigator, meant to root out problems and fix them with as little hassle as possible. “What do you have in your hand, Cadet?” The older man barked at him. Obediently, the cadet held out the piece of paper and surrendered it to him._

_“You broke formation for_ this _?” He scoffed, crumpling the sheet up and shoving it into his pocket. The cadet felt a twinge of sadness; such a beautiful color, going straight into the trash compactor. “How pathetic. Well, I bet a couple days in the reeducation program will help remind you to focus, eh?”_

Astronaut reaches out and brushes the leaf of the flower with his hand, thinking back to the green paper he had found so many moons ago. They share a similar hue, but that was it. This leaf is much more subdued in color, but what it lacks in vibrancy it more than makes up for in depth. Slowly, he drags his hand up to the stem and jerks back in alarm when he feels something prick his finger. A small drop of blood forms at the tip of his pointer; he cradles his hand into his chest and shoots the offending stem an angry glare. Behind him, he hears a familiar soft chuckle.

“Yeah, roses will definitely bite you if you touch them wrong Nugget.” The Turtle says kindly, walking over and offering him a tissue with a bemused smirk. Astronaut accepts it and cocks his head to the side. He wonders why the other is awake at such a late hour. His question must be painted across his face, because the Turtle responds. “I wasn’t feeling very sleepy, so I figured I would grab a midnight snack. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Astronaut shakes his head quickly. The Turtle seems to relax a bit at that and turns his attention back to the flower. “Roses are my favorite flowers.” He says, walking over and stroking the flower’s petals. For a moment Astronaut worries that it will bite him too, but the Turtle doesn’t appear to be in any pain. “Can I show you something?” He asks hesitantly. After a moment, the Astronaut nods. With a quick flick of his wrist he snaps off one of the flowers and turns back to the space man. “Close your eyes for a moment?” He requests.

A jolt of fear runs through him _._ His internal defenses flare to life, screaming that **Unknowns are dangerous** but he forces himself to relax. He trusts his host. He closes his eyes and takes a slow breath.

Nothing happens for a few seconds and Astronaut questions whether this was another one of the Turtle’s pranks. It wouldn’t be his worst one, he muses. Right before he moves to look, he feels something come into contact with his cheek. It feels cool to the touch and brushes gently against his skin. It almost tickles and he shuts down the shiver that runs through him. Instead he opens his eyes and feels his breath get stolen away.

The Turtle is mere inches from his face, rubbing the rose against his cheek in an intimate manner. Astronaut realizes he has never been so close to another person without punishment before, and it sends a thrill through him. He looks into the male’s eyes and admires the color. He’s not sure what the word for it is, but its gorgeous. It’s not quite red, but not quite yellow either. Its somewhere in between; almost the color of fire as it burns. He thinks that’s fitting for such a lively person. 

The moment seems to last an eternity before the Turtle pulls away again. “Sorry,” He says breathlessly. He flushes again, a soft pink across his otherwise green-gray beak. He scratches the back of his neck and laughs again, but it’s not his usual laugh. It’s a sharper sound, one that conveys embarrassment. Astronaut decides he doesn’t like this laugh as much as the other one. The Turtle is still babbling a bit. “-And I’m totally being way too creepy right now. Yeah. I’m just. I’ll leave you to it.”

The smaller man frowns as the spikey turtle turns to leave. He’s not sure when he’s decided he was going to do it, but the words come out of him before he can stop it.

“Stay.”

Time stands still.

His words hang in the air. He feels his chest tighten in panic because _holy flarg he broke yet another rule, but this one was even worse!_ Images of reeducation training flash through his mind and he feels the nausea from before return.

Another part of him is in awe of the sound he makes. He’s never heard his voice without the helmet on before. He finds that he likes the way that it doesn’t reverberate around his head, stuck inside the confines of the visor. His words come out soft but firm, musical in quality. He almost wants to keep speaking, just so he can hear himself fill up the room.

The Turtle hasn’t moved yet, back still to him. Is he angry? Is this it, and he’s about to **begin questioning and interrogating and ripping the secrets of the Academy out from Astronaut’s core because he is wrong, he is such a fool for disobeying the commands given, he has ruined _everything_** , **-**

“You…You can talk?” The Turtle sounds incredulous, like he believes he’s still dreaming. He turns around and stares at Astronaut, eyes wide. Astronaut goes to nod but stops himself, instead choosing to reply vocally. “I…Yes?” He’s still not certain how conversations are expected to be held, but he knows how to answer questions. 

The Turtle just stares at him silently for a moment before speaking again. “Your voice…” His words trail off as he stars at Astronaut, and the latter is reminded of the fact that he is emotionally and literally bare to the Turtle, his space suit still sitting in his bedroom folded neatly. _Can’t do anything about it now_ he thinks, and wishes he had his sleeves to grab onto. He settles for wrapping his arms protectively around himself and waits for the Turtle to finish. Maybe his voice sounds wrong? Maybe it’s too high pitched, and the other male doesn’t want to hear him speak again because he was wrong, **is always wrong**.

“…It’s out of this world.” The Turtle finishes, unable to contain his smile anymore at his own pun. Astronaut can’t fight his laughter either and giggles, which makes The Turtle look even more pleased. Astronaut lets himself laugh for a little while, enjoying how freeing sound is. At the Academy, behavior such as this would be cause for a probational hearing to determine his defect, but here on this colorful loud planet it’s okay. He’s allowed to make noise.

He likes it. 


	3. The Last Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, last part! 
> 
> Enjoy with context now :)

A sense of peace sets over the apartment now that Astronaut speaks. He and Turtle become very close very quickly, and Astronaut isn’t sure how friendship’s work but this one feels special to him. He trusts Turtle implicitly now; he’s not certain anything could change that fact. The duo spends as much time together as they can, at least when the group isn’t trying to steal him away. It had taken a couple days coaxing, but Turtle had convinced Astronaut to let the others hear him speak.

_The Turtle was smiling at him, a hand on his shoulder. Astronaut could see his lips moving, but nothing was making it into his brain. The small pit in stomach was in turmoil at the concept. Sure, he trusted the Turtle, but that was one mask, not the whole group. That was a lot of risk to take. He bites his lip and averts his gaze, hesitation written across his face. This was a bigger step then he’d ever taken before; what if they hated him?_

_It had dawned on his slowly that he cared what these people thought of him. He had grown quite fond of the Night Angel’s sharp tongue but easy smile, of the T-Rex’s excitable nature that felt contagious, of the Peacock’s haughty exterior but warm hugs. Almost all of them had welcomed him in with open arms and he didn’t want to give them any reason to dislike him. If they decided he wasn’t allowed to be part of their group, that would put the Turtle in an unpleasant position, and while he didn’t think he would make Astronaut leave there was no need to test that. The Turtle had already spent so much time helping him, he didn’t want to add anything more onto his plate._

_The hand on his shoulder squeezed lightly and he looked back up. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. But I think- no, I know that they’re going to love you. You’re a _blast _.” Astronaut snickered and batted the hand away. “Terrible. I’m going to Nep-tune you out if you keep it up,” He fired back easily. The Turtle laughed. “True. No one’s on your level my little comet.” Astronaut felt the familiar burn return to his cheeks. The Turtle loved to give him nicknames, which he was still unused to. He had always been known as simply Cadet, nothing else. It still felt strange to have something that belonged solely to him. These names were_ his _. He couldn’t be made to give them back._

 _The doorbell ringing interrupted anything else that was going to be said. The Turtle went to the door, waiting until the Astronaut had secured the helmet back on before opening it. The initial beeps of the visor blocked out whatever was said, but when it stopped, he saw the Night Angel smiling at him. The Turtle was watching him over her shoulder with an encouraging smile. He waved at her, nerves still chewing up his insides. She hugged him gently in return and grabbed his wrist, dragging him out to the car. Astronaut looked over his shoulder and watched the Turtle lock up the door with a less then pleased expression. Guilt sprung up from inside him and he winced._ After all he does for you, _whispered the little voice in his head that sounded to clinically familiar,_ and this is how you thank him? Pathetic.

_He has to do this. For the Turtle. For his friend. It felt like another huge step, but he could do it. He has followed worse directives than this, this was nothing. He took a deep breath and focused on the conversation happening around him._

_The Egg and the Rabbit were arguing over where they wanted to go. “Listen Egg head, the parks for grandma’s and for small kids. The pier’s where it’s at. Way more room to actually do things.” The Egg scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his legs with such ease and grace that it looked like a dance. “What’s wrong with a peaceful afternoon, hm? I want to sit and read, and the pier’s going to be noisy. How are we supposed to talk? Not everyone’s a loudmouth like you and Turtle.” The Egg teased. Rabbit turned to his host with a pleading expression. “Come on man, back me up here. You don’t want to go to a stuffy park.”_

_Astronaut took a deep breath and grabbed his sleeves with his hand. This was it. Now or never._ Don’t upset him worse _. “I…I would like to see the park. I think,” He saw Turtle’s overjoyed expression and knew he made the right choice. “I think it’d be a nice tree-at.” He finished, smiling triumphantly under his helmet. Everyone inside the Bear’s car began laughing, surprised but pleasantly so. “You didn’t tell us he speaks, T. Or that he’s as lame as you.” The Night Angel groaned, but her pleased smile gave the lie away. The Egg clapped excitedly, and the Skeleton had to stop him from launching himself on top of the space man. “Wait until we’re out of the van, Eggy.” He laughed, winking at Astronaut who ducked his head in appreciation._

_Turtle scooted closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “He’s funnier than the lot of you. What can I say, I bring the humor out of everyone, on and off this planet.” He bumped his shoulder against Astronaut, who giggled in return. “I vote the park.” The Turtle announced. The Astronaut saw the Rabbit frown and twitch in annoyance but didn’t say anything. He was just proud of himself for doing well._

_The day was spent at the park, where the group sat on a blanket and took turns talking with Astronaut. He was a little overwhelmed at first but found it easier to nod and listen to the others talk about their lives, or funny anecdotes about previous trips out. Apparently, the Rabbit and Turtle had a reputation for pulling insane and crazy stunts, some of which were shocking to him. “Did you really jump out of a moving car?” He gasped, turning to look up at Turtle. Said reptile scratched his neck in return, trying to find a good answer before being bailed out by the Rabbit. “He managed to spin himself pretty damn far before hitting anything. You’re looking at one cool dude, the only one who can keep up with me.” The bunny laughed, grabbing his best friend and somehow managing to get into a quick wrestling match with him. Astronaut couldn’t help the little twinge of jealousy at the easy comradery the two shared. They seemed to always have each other’s back, although he couldn’t imagine why someone would try jumping out of a moving vehicle. Maybe that was another custom just hadn’t picked up on yet?_

_“It wasn’t as crazy as they made it sound,” Turtle eventually huffed out from underneath the Rabbit, who sat pleased as punch on his belly. “They’re just trying to turn you against me.” Astronaut smiled. He didn’t think that’d be possible at this point._

That marked the point when the group outings morphed into smaller parties. While the big unified friend group still went out and did things, it’s become more and more common for three or four of them to go out and try something new. Astronaut suspects that they are trying to teach him all the different things that can be done on this planet, but he isn’t upset. Each of the masks have such differing personalities that it is always interesting to see how they interact on a smaller scale.

Turtle, however, seems to prefer spending time alone with Astronaut, choosing to introduce him to ‘must-see’ movies or taking him for drives through the city. Astronaut wonders if it’s because he likes seeing the space man in normal clothing but he isn’t brave enough to ask. The days turn to weeks and life’s new normal takes control. 

A month in, Turtle comes in and tells him he has to return to work. The leaves in the trees had started to change color, an event he’s come to learn is a signal for the season’s change. Turtle’s school is starting up again, and he learns that this punk rocker is also a Wellness Program Director at the local college. He snickers at the mental image of his friend in anything other than his favorite leather boots, but externally he nods thoughtfully. “I was hoping you’d accompany me to the library. Maybe we can find some movies for you to watch while I work.” Turtle offers his arm in a grand gesture to Astronaut, and the latter bows gracefully and takes it, ignoring the shiver it sends down his back.

The magnitude of the library is stunning. He instantly falls in love with the building and its peaceful quietness. Astronaut stands in the entryway, bouncing excitedly, a habit he had long thought he broke. The two spend the day picking out dozens of books for Astronaut to read later. Turtle complains about how heavy the books are, but even the high stacks of bound paper can’t hide his expression, and he looks very satisfied with himself for making Astronaut so happy. He would spend time analyzing it, but the sheer number of books he now has for the next fourteen days is too distracting.

On days when Turtle has to go to work, he sits curled up in a chair and reads, devouring the local literature with a desire for knowledge he’s never felt before. Reading becomes his addiction, and he’s rarely seen around the apartment without a book in his face. Turtle teases him about it constantly, but Astronaut can’t find it in him to tell him to stop. He learns to love their little rhythm, and spends every night before going to sleep thanking the universe for making him crash here.

But the good doesn’t come without minor setbacks. His nightmares never stop; it’s like his mind needs an outlet for his pain and it comes in the form of painful dreams. They always slip away from him once he wakes up, but the terror that pools in his stomach sticks with him for hours afterwards. They were intense and he knows he’s forever indebted to Turtle for his compassion and understanding. 

_He sat straight up in bed, clutching his blanket so tightly that his fingers go white. He looked around frantically, heart in his throat. He heard something outside the door and whimpered, sleep clogging his brain enough that he was only able to lift his arms to block his face before the door flew open, revealing a concerned Turtle. He jerked away on instinct and fell off the edge of the bed, head smacking painfully against the wall. “Hey, it’s just me. You’re okay.” Turtle spoke softly and clearly. Astronaut shook his head once, twice, and winced. “yeah, that didn’t sound good. Can I help you up?” His friend had taken the opportunity to walk over and kneel down in front of him, worry etched into his face. Astronaut went to reply but no words came out. He frowned and tried again, but still nothing happened._

_His voice just wouldn’t cooperate, betraying him. Turtle offered him a calming smile, gently taking his arm and lifting him up. “Would it help if I talked for a bit?” He asked as he settled his startled roommate into the bed. Astronaut nodded again. Turtle flashed his patient smile again, making himself comfortable before he began telling a story about a kid in his class who managed to get out of every event they held. The space man only half-listened, choosing instead to focus on the physical presence of Turtle. The terror that had sang in his veins slowly calmed down, not overwhelmingly present but still there. He wished he could remember what his dream was about but it alluded him. All he could recall was the too white walls of the laboratory, and that alone was enough to make him want to forget. Some things are better left ignored, after all._

_Astronaut studied his friend. Turtle had clearly just woken up, evident by the tired expression on his face. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought that he had interrupted his sleep; the other had work in a few hours, whereas Astronaut had no such obligations. Deep down, however, he was grateful for how caring his host was. Ever since he had been brought here Turtle had cared for him with no complaints, only smiles and jokes. He never asked for anything in return from his guest. Astronaut still couldn’t understand why he deserved all of this but knew better than to question it._

His life had become picture perfect, and he doesn’t think it can get any better. He’s happy and safe, and more importantly he’s allowed to be himself, encouraged even. He lets believe that this is real, and that he is finally done running. He’s going to stay here on Earth with Turtle and the others for as long as they let him.

But he should know by now how the saying goes: if you want to make the Universe laugh, tell it about your plans.

Fall’s just started to fade into winter when the Rabbit shows up at the door, a rather exasperated Fox in tow. Astronaut is sitting on the couch with his book, a cup of abandoned hot coco sitting to his left. Turtle waits for him to sprint to his room and retrieve his helmet before inviting them in, taking their dripping jacks and hanging them up by the vents. Astronaut manages to slide onto the couch before anyone enters the living room. “Hello Astronaut. What’re you reading?” The Fox asks him smoothly, sitting down while his boyfriend drags Turtle off somewhere else. “ _Jane Eyre_ , it’s my favorite.” Astronaut puts a bookmark in his personal copy and offers it to the Fox. When it had been time to return the first batch of books, he had been most sad to depart with this one. He feels a connection to the titular character and her search for a place in the world; he certainly knows what it was like to be an outsider. Turtle had surprised him with a secondhand copy of the novel, and Astronaut had been so happy he had hugged the taller man for a while before disappearing to reread it.

The Fox smiles and flips carefully through the worn pages, nodding thoughtfully. “I remember reading this is college,” He muses, smiling. ‘I have to say, it was very thoughtful of Turtle to get you this. Books are intimate gifts, after all.” Astronaut flushes. “Are they?” He squeaks, the speakers on his helmet emphasizing the crack in his voice. _Traitor_ , he thinks at it viciously. The Fox chuckles at him. “It’s hard to get a book gift right, but then again I’m sure it was no trouble for Turtle.” He grows a sly smirk on his face as he says this, like he’s laughing at a joke that Astronaut hasn’t gotten yet. “What do you mean?” He questions, cocking his head to the side, a move that Turtle had deemed the ‘puppy tilt’. Fox shakes his head, moving his fingers across his snout as if he is zipping his lips shut and tossing away the key. Astronaut can’t fight back the giggle at the gesture. He’s never seen it before, but he’s certain he can infer the meaning from the action.

The Rabbit and Turtle eventually come back to the room while Astronaut and the Fox discuss different books. Astronaut makes a list of recommendations the older animal gives him. “He said yes!” The Rabbit crows, a victorious look on his face as he sticks his tongue out at the Fox. Said man rolls his eyes and waves him off with a fond expression. “Fine, whatever. At least I’ll have Astronaut to keep me company whilst you two destroy the mountain.”

Astronaut shoots a concerned look to Turtle before remembering the visor blocking his face from view. Turtle must understand the gesture still because he sighs. “Rabbit’s proposing a long weekend trip to a local skiing mountain. Remember, I told you about skiing? With the long poles?” Turtle mimes out the action and Astronaut nods. “Good, good. I think it’d be fun, but if you don’t want to go, we can do it another time.” The Rabbit looks at him from behind Turtle and glares, and Astronaut shrinks back a little under the intensity. His little voice of doubt starts to whisper to him, reminding him how _he can’t interrupt Turtle hanging with friends, not after he’s stolen so much of his time, the Rabbit’s right to hate him._ He nods quickly, unsure whether it’s to Turtle’s unspoken question or in agreement with the voice. “Okay, great. Ski Bro’s are back baby!” Turtle turns and chest bumps the Rabbit, and it spirals into a competition from there.

Astronaut laughs at his host’s antics, only speaking up to warn him when they’re about to shatter the small table in the corner. He tries to ignore the weird oily feeling he’s getting. He trusts Turtle and his friends; it’s going to be fine.

The drive up is gorgeous. The two groups choose to take separate cars, and although Astronaut would never say it aloud he’s grateful to not be stuck inside a vehicle with the loud bunny. Turtle seems happier this way as well, making sure to take his time so Astronaut can see all of the landmarks they pass. He’s not sure why hotdog stands are considered important but he wouldn’t dream of taking it away from his friend. His helmet sits in the backseat, not necessary for at least another hour.

Turtle drums his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm to the song blaring out of the speakers. “You know,” He starts conversationally. “You’re going to have to remind me to give you driving lessons sometime.” Astronaut can’t help the undignified snort that comes out of him. “I can fly a space craft; I think I can drive a measly Earth vehicle.” He remarks, not taking his eyes off the snowy trees outside the window. He wasn’t too fond of snow at first as it was eerily reminiscent of the chill of space, but he’s come to appreciate the beauty in the white blanket it leaves in its wake. “I seem to recall you **crashing** your space-ship so I don’t think that’s a reassuring credential.”

Astronaut whips his head around to glare at the driver, who is clearly fighting back laughter. “I- The ship- Shut up,” He grumbles. Turtle turns up the music in an attempt to hide his snickers, and it doesn’t work. At all. 

The cabin is much larger than he anticipates. It’s made entirely of oak logs stacked neatly on top of each other. Snow collects across the roof, and Astronaut has the urge to snap a picture of it. They’re only out of the car for a few minutes before the Fox and the Rabbit pull up, parking behind them. “Finally, I was beginning to think you killed him.” Turtle jokes to the Fox, coming over and helping them bring in the bags. The Rabbit grumbles good naturedly, while the Fox simply looks at him with cold eyes and remarks “The temptation did hit me a couple times, but then I remembered how bad I look in orange.” Astronaut doesn’t quite get the joke, but the other two begin howling with laughter so he chuckles too.

The Fox insists on making them dinner, and steals Turtle away into the kitchen to help. The Rabbit immediately tries to follow them but his boyfriend rebuffs him. He’s banished to the couch by the fireplace, directly across from where Astronaut is comfortably draped into an armchair. The room is pleasantly quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fireplace and the soft flick of the pages of his book. He can’t shake the weird feeling that’s settled into his gut, however, and looks up to see the Rabbit looking at him.

The expression on the bunny’s face makes his stomach curl slightly. It isn’t outwardly aggressive, but it most definitely isn’t a friendly one. He feels himself pull back, as if to appear smaller. “What’s wrong?” He manages to squeak out. He’s certain that if it wasn’t for his visor the glare would have burned through his face and killed him. The Rabbit opens his mouth to speak but shoots a look towards the kitchen and closes it again, choosing instead to shake his head and pick up the television remote. Astronaut briefly considers pushing the topic, but he’s too relieved that the moment has passed to move.

_What did I do to upset him?_ He wonders to himself. Was he too friendly with the Fox? He is still quite new to the friendship thing, and perhaps he had overstepped a boundary he hadn’t known about. He decides that he will make time the next morning to apologize to his roommate’s best friend.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully and they all head to bed rather early, intending to hit the slopes first thing in the morning. Turtle is bustling with excitable energy and chattering to him about how much fun skiing was. He can tell that his friend can’t wait to start teaching him, and while he’s nervous about embarrassing himself the excitement is too contagious for him not to smile. He’s turning to leave the room when he spots the Rabbit watching them again. He becomes acutely aware of how close together they’re standing and moves away. Turtle notices and frowns for a second before excusing himself and shuffling into the bathroom, uncharacteristically off put. Astronaut worries that he did something wrong but pushes the though down. He walks to the small guest room nearest to the back entrance; he chose this one for its beautiful view of the mountainside. His space suit is quickly and neatly folded and placed on the table and he slides under the covers. He closes his eyes and thinks back to the car ride with Turtle, a smile gently forming on his lips.

He wakes up suddenly, chest tight. He takes a deep breath, chiding himself for allowing a dream to work him up when he realizes the panicked feeling hasn’t left yet. He looks at the door and sees a giant shadow over it. Fingers slowly rise up and press to its lips as it slowly closes the door. He thinks he’s hallucinating until the figure speaks. 

“Ah, so that’s what you look like under the fishbowl.”

It’s the Rabbit.

He tries to calm his racing heart, unnerved by the other’s presence in his room. “What are you doing in here?” He stammers, sitting up and pulling the blanket around himself. The Rabbit gives him an amused look. “Why don’t you get up and follow me, hmm? We should chat.” The last word drips heavily with sarcasm but Astronaut nods nonetheless. He stands up and slips his suit on with practiced ease, reaching for the helmet when the Rabbit hisses out at him to leave it off. The alarms inside his head begin ringing again but he obliges, still thinking that this was about the Fox somehow. He obediently follows the taller man out the back door, shooting a look at Turtle’s room. He can picture his friend curled up snoring, positioned in the middle of the bed as he always sleeps. It helps soothe his fraying nerves a bit.

A cold wind howls and bites him as soon as he steps outside. He shivers involuntarily, unused to the feeling of wind across his face like this. If the Rabbit notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“If this is about Fox, I’m sorry,” Astronaut begins. He’s not sure what he had been planning to say next but the Rabbit interrupts him with a harsh laugh. “Shut up. You know what this is about.” Astronaut frowns, confused. He tries to think back to what the bunny could be referring to but finds himself drawing a blank. The Rabbit steps closer to him, taking his silence as an opportunity to continue. “I want you to go back to wherever the Hell you come from.”

Astronaut reels at this. He had let Turtle convince him that his fears were wrong but here was proof of the opposite. He realizes that the Rabbit is glaring at him, not with jealousy as he thought before but with hatred and distrust. “Don’t think I haven’t caught on to your stupid plan. You’re going to pack up and leave my best friend alone. Go do your stupid helpless act somewhere else.” He punctuates this with a sharp jab of the finger into Astronaut’s chest. The cold doesn’t feel like it’s just outside the suit now but inside _him_. The little voice of doubt flares back to life, reminding him that he’s a _fool for thinking anyone could truly like him._

“I…What plan?” He knows he sounds stupid but he can’t help it. He’s just too confused by the sudden turn of events. The Rabbit twitches in annoyance, a snarl set on his face. “Don’t play dumb with me, _alien_.” He practically spits the insult at him. “You are taking advantage of Turtle. You’re _using him_ for shelter and food. It’s disgusting, taking advantage of his kindness like this. You have no shame!” He shouts the last part and Astronaut shrinks back in fear. His heart is pounding in his chest and he feels his body beg him to run, to get away from this dangerous psycho bunny screaming in his face. He swallows thickly, ignoring that urge. “I’m not using him for anything, he’s my friend.” He’s saying and it sounds weak, even to his own ears.

The Rabbit scoffs at him. “Your kind doesn’t know the first thing about friendships. You’re all just parasitic freaks who prey on good people. Well, not this time. Not on Turtle’s dime. I see how you use him: he cooks for you, takes you places, blows off his _actual friends_ to spend more time with you. You think he’s doing it because he likes you? No, it’s out of pity. He’s just too good of a guy to toss you out. Well, I’m not. Go crawl back to your space-ship and get off of my planet.”

Astronaut’s head is reeling. He wants to argue that he’s wrong, he doesn’t use Turtle. But when the Rabbit puts it that way, he does, doesn’t he? He’s just a burden on Turtle. He doesn’t provide anything, he’s a fool for thinking he could. He feels his head bobbing up and down, but it’s like he’s a marionette and someone else is pulling the strings. He watches the Rabbit’s chest heave rapidly and he’s struck with the need to apologize. “You’re right, I’m just a burden, I’m useless.” He murmurs, and at first, he worries that the Rabbit can’t hear him so he repeats himself again, the others’ words burning into his mind. If he had been able to look up, he would see that the Rabbit’s stopped in his tracks but he can’t. He just keeps apologizing.

His brain feels like its being smushed. He knows he’s standing in the snow on top of a mountain but all he can see before him are the dull golden walls. The trees are swaying and shifting and becoming his Instructors, impossibly tall but he’s a _good Cadet, he knows **never to question orders.**_ He’ll leave, return home like he should have, accept his punishment for unintentionally escaping. He needs to go back into the reeducation rooms. He’s a failure. He can’t seem to take in oxygen properly and his eyes burn with tears but he dutifully keeps them in. He can hear the whispered voice again, purring to him how **_stupid he was; the Unknowns would never accept him, never want him. He was a burden, always is, always broken_**.

Distantly he sees one of the Instructors bending down with a concerned expression but **_he must be wrong again because they would never worry about a failure like him_** and he bows his head submissively as he was taught to. He can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears, but he makes out fragments. “…cation rooms?? You loo…hear me? Pl…say something...” An order! Something he can do! “Yes Instructor. I will leave immediately.” The Cadet turns and marches off, making his way back into the ~~cabin~~ building and retrieving his helmet. He grabs the car keys off of the table and continues to the car, unsure whether the sounds behind him are manmade or just wind. He unlocks the doors and slides in, turning the key and starting the ignition. He places his helmet down gently on the seat next to him. The car windshield is blurry in his vision but he presses on, fastening his seatbelt and flicking on the lights. 

He sees movement out of his peripherals as the ~~car~~ ship begins to move slowly. He doesn’t turn his head; **_the Instructors would tell him to if they wanted him to see something_**. The road before him is sliding in and out of view but he doesn’t react. He is a good student, after all. He’ll finally show the Instructors that he can be useful to the Academy; he will serve them in any way they desire. His head hums with the mantras they trained him with, and a lesser cadet would have smiled but he doesn’t. He knows that **_emotion is weakness, weakness is the death of order_**. Instead he continues onward, mentally calculating how long it would take him to reach the ~~wreckage of his ship~~ Academy. He can’t waste any time.

He hears a horn honking, but horns don’t exist in space so he ignores it. He is a good pilot; he can’t get distracted. He isn’t sure he’s blinking but it doesn’t matter. He stares ahead and focuses on his goal. A part of him questions whether they even want him back but he dismisses it too. **_Good Cadets question nothing._** It isn’t his decision, so he will not waste the Academy’s time thinking about it.

Suddenly there are hands on his shoulders and they’re shaking him. He blinks in surprise, mechanically turning his head to see an Investigator before him. He knows better than to flinch away so he stays still but loose. His punishment would come now, it seems. He almost feels relieved knowing that it’s over. The Investigator would dole out some reeducation and he would be on his way to becoming a good Cadet again. It’s all he wants now; all he’s really ever wanted.

He can’t help the confusion that comes to him at this particular Investigator’s appearance. He has never seen one sporting a mohawk before.

“Can you hear me? Oh God, What the fuck did you do??” The Investigator is shouting over its shoulders, but the Cadet knows it’s directed at him. He whimpers involuntarily, aware that it would only make things worse. The Investigator turns its attention back to him. “You’re bleeding, it’s freezing, come here!” The sentences seem to bleed together but he obeys instinctually. Standing up makes his body scream but he does it anyway.

The Investigator grabs him and lifts him into its arms. As he’s being carried away, he sees his ship crashed into a tree, smoke coming out from under the hood. The sight confuses him, there were no trees in space. Everything hurts and he hopes that the Investigator will call for a medic because he’s certain his head was going to implode.

He must have passed out because the next thing he’s aware of is being laid on a cot. His head throbs and he longs to rub it, but he will not move unless ordered to. He blinks against the harsh light and sees the Investigator from before looking down at him. He looks up at it blankly, awaiting some form of questioning or orders. They stay like that for a few minutes before the Investigator opens its mouth. “I’m so sorry for whatever it was Rabbit said,” It speaks in a small tone, so unlike the ones the cadet is used to. He hasn’t been asked a question though, so he doesn’t move. He wonders when the reeducation will begin. He won’t fight it this time. “I…Can you say something? Please?”

“What would you like me to say Investigator?”

Clearly this is the wrong answer given how it rears back. The cadet scolds himself silently for somehow managing to mess it up again. “Investigator? No, buddy, it’s me. Turtle? How hard did you hit your head?” As if to punctuate that, the drumming inside his skull hits a point where he can no longer ignore it. He reaches up and gently touches his temple; his hand comes back stained red, and he stares at it for a moment, uncertain its even his. The fingers are trembling, drenched in blood. He’s shaking? He wants to apologize but his voice is trapped in his throat. He feels like the words are blocking his ability to breathe, and his chest tightens. He feels himself teetering on the edge of panic when suddenly there are hands on his’, blocking them from sight and rubbing small circles. He stares down at its hands. He sees long fingers wrapped around his palm, feels how bumpy they are against his cold skin.

The events of the night come flooding back into his mind. He winces as the onslaught of emotions flood over him and he goes to pull his hand back in guilt. The Turtle doesn’t let go, however, choosing instead to move closer to him. “Would it help if I talked for a bit?” He offers quietly, and if Astronaut wasn’t so close to the edge of insanity he might have laughed at the familiarity of the statement. He wants to say yes, to let the other man help him but he can’t continue to be a burden any longer. He shakes his head once, twice, which brings a sharp stab of pain bright enough that it clears up his mind.

He focuses on the Turtle, who looks exhausted. Another item to add to the list of his crimes. “I’m so sorry.” He says instead. The Turtle goes to interrupt him but Astronaut speaks over him. “Rabbit didn’t do anything wrong because he’s right. I have done nothing but take from you, and you’re too good to me. I should’ve been repairing my ship and leaving, not getting caught up in having friends and fun.” He feels revolted at himself as he says it. “I will rectify the situation as soon as possible and get out of your hair, but in the meantime please accept my apology. You should be living your life with your friends, not caring for a…a space parasite.

It takes all his effort not to cry as he says this. He distracts himself by planning out how quickly he can get it all done, feeling both dismayed and relieved when he realizes that full repairs couldn’t be completed for at least another moon cycle. That means another month of _living_ with the Turtle, but that means another month of living with the _Turtle_.

Said reptile squeezes his hand and offers a watery laugh. “Oh, Nugget,” He sighs. He seems at a loss for the right words, and Astronaut refuses to rush him. He can accept anything he says at this point, just hoping that he can at least gain forgiveness before leaving. “Buddy,” He finally starts. “You’ve been here for less than a year and you’ve made such a huge impact on my life. Do you know what I did before I met you?” Astronaut does, actually, the Bear had told him, but he figures this is meant to be rhetorical so he waits. “I worked so I could pay my rent, and I did dumb crap with Rabbit just so I had stories to tell. I love my friends, but there was still a hole in me that I couldn’t fill.”

Turtle is looking at him expectantly, and Astronaut isn’t sure what he’s trying to imply. He looks back confusedly. Turtle stares at him for a moment before closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath and whispers something to himself. Astronaut’s about to ask what he’s doing when suddenly Turtle jerks forward and he’s _kissing him_.

He sits completely still in shock for a beat before it dawns on him to do something. He tries his best to return the kiss but he’s sure his inexperience is definitely showing. After a second Turtle pulls away, adjusting himself so that their foreheads are touching. “You filled that hole. You’re more than a friend to me now, you’re my family. The others are too, don’t get me wrong, but you? You’re special.” Turtle’s breath is warm against his face but he likes it. He gets what Turtle is saying, both with his words and with the subtext. He’s extending an invitation, a permanent one. He doesn’t have to run anymore, doesn’t ever have to return to the Academy if he doesn’t want to. He could stay here, be friends with the others, reconcile with Rabbit, _be with Turtle_. It’s something he’s never let himself imagine before and now that he is, he can’t stop.

Something hits him and he pulls back suddenly with a whispered “Oh my gosh.” Turtle blushes, embarrassed. “If you don’t want to it’s totally fine, no worries, I’ll just…I’ll stop talking now.” Astronaut covers Turtle’s mouth with a hand to silence him. “I’m still bleeding, I don’t want to get it on you.” He explains. Turtle’s eyes jump back up to his forehead and he is quickly back into doctor-mode. While he’s reapplying bandages, Astronaut takes the opportunity to ask a question. “What exactly happened? I mean, how’d you find me?” 

Turtle works as he talks. “Rabbit said you started mumbling a bunch of stuff over and over. He tried to ask if you were okay when you started spouting off about a ‘reeducation room’. He was trying to get you to look at him but he said you looked like you weren’t even there. When you started walking back to the cabin, he sprinted ahead of you and came crashing into my room, frantically dragging me outside after you.” He pauses to wash the bloody cloth and collect his thoughts. “I watched you get into the car and tried to open the door but it was locked. I started banging on the window but you didn’t even react, just started the car and gunned it. Luckily Fox’s car was there too so I ran back in, grabbed his keys and we took off after you. I was worried you would hit the main road but you crashed into a tree about a mile or so down the mountain. I had to punch the window out to open the door and let me tell you, it’s not as easy as the movies make it seem.” He holds up a wrapped hand. “Hurt like a mother.” He chuckles weakly, clearly trying to hide the emotion in his tone.

“You were really out of it, man. You weren’t responding to me talking to you, then suddenly you were jumping out of the car like nothing. You collapsed immediately, because of course you did, so I caught you and then Rabbit and I brought you back here. Fox helped us set up an emergency-emergency room, and we patched you up a little.” He concludes, putting the finishing touches on the new bandage around Astronaut’s head. Astronaut can tell by the way he’s talking that he’s excluding some parts, but right now he doesn’t have the energy to ask which parts they are. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you like that.” He says again, but Turtle shushes him. “You aren’t the one who should be apologizing.”

There’s a quiet knock at the door, and then the six-foot Rabbit is walking in. Astronaut starts talking before he even realizes. “I am so sorry for everything; I really hope you can forgive me.” He’s not even one hundred percent sure what he’s apologizing for but all he knows is that he can’t live with himself if the bunny hates him. Rabbit stares at him, confused. “Wha- No! No, what on Earth are you sorry for??? I’m the one who messed up.” The Rabbit runs a hand across his ears before trying again. “Listen: _I’m_ sorry for the stunt I pulled. I thought you were trying to hurt Turtle, and I could see how much he cared about you and I wanted to protect him. It’s not a good excuse, but I see now I was wrong. I should have come up to you and talked, not immediately jumped the gun. That’s on me. Can you forgive me?” Astronaut is nodding quickly before the words finish coming out of his mouth. He’s just so relieved that the Rabbit doesn’t hate him, that they can start to actually be friends.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t think you’d say yes so fast. Damn, T, does he know what a grudge is?” The Rabbit receives an angry glare from his best bud, who still hasn’t fully forgiven him _and_ knows what a grudge is. The bunny raises his hands in surrender and retreats back out of the room, and then it’s just the two of them again. 

“I want it. What you were offering. All of it. Yes.” Astronaut is blurting out as soon as they’re alone. Turtle almost preens at this. He’s at his side again in a heartbeat, and Astronaut shifts over on the bed to make room. He leans against Turtle’s plastron and lets himself smile. “I’m very lucky to have you Astronaut.” Turtle breathes onto the top of his head. Astronaut hums thoughtfully. “Call me Astro.” He decides in that moment that he is going to commit fully to this future. No more passively watching, he’s taking the wheel in his life. Turtle chuckles. “Alright then, Astro it is.”

They end up spending the next day just talking. He learns a lot about Fox and Rabbit and feels like they’ve started making a real friendship. He begins to put in active effort, making conversation and sharing stories about him. He can see the difference it makes instantly, and he likes it. They never end up going skiing that weekend, instead rescheduling for another date a few months away. Astro feels guilty when they all are forced to pack into Fox’s car, but Turtle reassures him that it’s fine. “Next time,” He jokes, “Let me give you at least two lessons before you try to Tokyo Drift it, yeah?” Astro sticks his tongue out at him in response, having chosen to leave his helmet in the trunk for the ride back. If he was going to forge real connections, he couldn’t do it while hiding behind a visor.

When they get back, he throws himself into the everyday life. It takes a couple days, but he decides he wants to start getting out of the house. He takes up a volunteer position at the library that Turtle had brought him to so many times. He loves books and being surrounded by them is heavenly. Life settles into a familiar pattern, only this time he feels confident in a way he hadn’t before. The group was no longer “his host’s friends” but rather _his_ friends. He, Night Angel and Fox set up weekly meetings where they complained about their partners disregard for safety and laws: or rather, he and Fox did while Night Angel laughed. He starts spending more time with Frog and Kitty, discovering that he really enjoyed Kitty’s crafts and Frog’s dry wit. He even gets roped into a few pranks with his boyfriend and Rabbit, and although he’d never say it, he finds some of them funny. The past doesn’t just magically go away, but it feels less like an open sore and more like a scab. 

He and Turtle set up their little domestic home. Turtle surprises Astro with a small bookshelf, complete with a couple of his new favorite books. Astro makes sure he leaves room for the worn-out copy of _Jayne Eyre_ ; the first gift Turtle had ever really gotten him. His boyfriend, after all, was quite perceptive, and it should be rewarded. He learns to stop looking over his shoulder and to relax. They even end up with a new potted plant. Astro spends hours meticulously caring for the small extra-terrestrial bonsai, a gift from Alien. It glows a soft blue, color changing depending on it’s needs. Astro loves it and agonizes over what to name it, eventually settling on John, much to Turtle’s amusement.

The three of them live life one day to the next in peace, or as close to peace as one can when a punk rock Turtle with no concept of self-preservation is tossed into the mix. Finally, Astro feels happy. And it feels **_good_**.

**The End.**

~~Or is it?~~


End file.
